


We Gather Together

by girlygirl14534



Series: The Adventures of Amy [23]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Apples, Autumn, Cooking, F/M, Friendsgiving, Gen, Holidays, Meet the Family, Multi, Orchard, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, apple picking, flannel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27734035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlygirl14534/pseuds/girlygirl14534
Summary: Thanksgiving! Chapter 1: Picking apples with the boys and making pies. Ch 2: Friendsgiving with your friends. Ch 3: Thanksgiving with your family and you bring the boys along!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: The Adventures of Amy [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903927
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	1. For the Fruits of His Creation

The wind whistled through the trees and icy drops of rain fell erratically from the sky. The sky was blustery and gray and there was no one else out there. The attendant that let the truck into the orchard—a lanky teenage boy sulking under an umbrella—looked like this family farm was the absolute last place in the world he wanted to be. You parked in the patch of muddy gravel that served as the parking lot and set out with your baskets. Perhaps it was just the company, but you felt like nothing could dull your spirits today. Steve and Bucky looked adorably sexy in their flannels, and even though they had rolled their eyes when you told them that they looked like the cutest, hottest, sweetest lumberjacks in the world, their blushes gave them away. 

You picked an ungodly amount of apples, the boys lifting you up as needed to reach higher into the trees. There was a mama tree—she was bigger than the others and the drizzle hadn’t broken through her canopy yet. You stole a few kisses under her shelter, but the fun ended when the boys felt how cold your hands had gotten. They insisted on a trip to the food stand to get you a hot drink. The three of you stood under the awning sipping apple cider and eating fresh cinnamon sugar donuts until your hands had returned to a reasonable temperature. Then you piled back into the truck and drove home with a trunkful of apples, Steve cuddling you the whole way to keep you warm. 

“I think we have more apples than we know what to do with,” you said, looking at the loot in the bed of the truck. “That’s going to make a _lot_ of pie. But you can bring some to—is Avengers Thanksgiving a thing? You can make one ginormous, Hulk-sized one! Ooh! And a tiny one for Ant-Man!” 

They laughed. 

“Everyone kinda does their own thing on Thanksgiving,” Steve explained. “The past few years, with all the turmoil...this is the first year I’d even want to celebrate. But Nat’s Russian and Sam’s going to his sister’s and Tony…”

“Tony and I aren’t quite at the breaking bread stage yet,” Bucky said. “Sam’s offered to let us come with him, but we don’t want to intrude on his family time.” 

“Maybe next year we can do an Avengers Thanksgiving, though. We don’t really do that kinda thing, but it might be nice to start.”

“Do you want to celebrate Thanksgiving this year?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Well, my Friendsgiving is kind of sacred—no boyfriends, no friends of friends, no plus ones. Thankfully, the Carlisle family Thanksgiving has a much more relaxed guest list. I’m sure you’d be welcome. I’ll call my mom and ask. You two can stay in my old room, really delve into my childhood psyche. I’ll stay with Anna, who I’m sure will be thrilled about that. Fair warning, I see a lot of Tiktok dances in your future. And my parents, well—you haven’t even said ‘yes’ yet…” _Why am I so nervous?_

Steve and Bucky exchanged a hesitant glance before Steve spoke:

“Amy, I’d love to, but we don’t want to force you to tell your family about us before you’re ready.”

“We can start by telling them you’re my friends. I hate to think of you boys not having a Thanksgiving. Besides, my mom makes an excellent sweet potato pie.”

“I’ve always been more of a pumpkin pie guy myself,” Steve said. 

“Oooof. I’m sorry. That answer is incorrect. The answer we were looking for here was—” 

“I happen to love sweet potato pie,” Bucky said. 

“Ding ding ding! Steve, it’s not too late—there’s still time to change your answer.”

“Thanksgiving with you sounds perfect, and I can’t wait to try your mom’s sweet potato pie. I bet it’s delicious and _way better_ than any pumpkin pie I’ve ever had.”

“Now that’s more like it!” you laughed. 

You parked in the Tower’s garage and hopped in the elevator to their apartments, taking the apples with you. Steve was standing between you and Bucky and put down his baskets to throw his arms around you. As the floors ticked by, Steve’s hands got lower and lower until he had two handfuls of ass. It wasn’t long before hands were everywhere; grasping, stroking, unbuttoning. The elevator dinged as it stopped unexpectedly on the common floor. You jumped away from each other and tried to act casual as two new passengers boarded the elevator. Nat and Sam were mid-laugh when they took in the three of you. You were all in wet clothing, huge baskets of apples at your feet, and several buttons of everyone’s flannels undone. Sam shook his head at you. Nat just smirked. 

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” was all she said as she got off at her floor. Sam got off too, muttering under his breath about taking the stairs. 

“Working on it!” Steve called back as the doors closed. 

You managed to get to Steve’s without further incident and took a shower to get warmed up. It was an hour before you were all dressed and ready to make pies (after you had warmed up in the shower, dried off, and then warmed up in bed). The three of you were all in flannels and underwear, you and Bucky borrowing some shirts from Steve’s personal collection, which was surprisingly extensive. You requested that the boys keep their shirts unbuttoned for eye candy purposes.

“Y’know, in the name of fairness, maybe you should keep yours unbuttoned too?” Steve asked. 

“Then we’d never get anything done! _I_ can multitask. I can appreciate my beautiful, delicious boyfriends while making beautiful, delicious pie. I don’t know that you can say the same.”

You got to the business of cleaning, peeling, and slicing apples (and you might’ve snuck a few peeks at your boyfriends’ physiques). You were taking great care not to chop and stare at the same time. They were a lot faster with knives anyway, so after a while you just sat back and watched them work.

“Multi-tasking, huh?” Bucky looked up from his cutting board with a smirk. 

You grabbed an apple slice from Steve’s pile. “Yes.” You took a bite. “I’m admiring you _and_ eating apples. At the same time. Impressive, huh?”

“You know what would be more impressive?” Steve said to you. He ate the rest of the apple slice out of your hand before picking you up and placing you on the counter. “If you could do all that with my tongue on you.”

He slipped your underwear off and opened your legs, kissing the inside of your thighs. He gave one last command before he dove in: “Eat your apple. Look at Bucky. Multitask.” You obeyed. You kept your eyes on Bucky the whole time...

When your pies were finally in the oven, you were all covered in flour from a flour fight and needed another shower. You insisted that you shower separately this time so the pies wouldn't burn. Everyone was in new flannels because the boys knew how much you liked them and didn’t want to cut your viewing experience short. You borrowed a green one from Bucky that looked great against your skin (and once you saw yourself in the mirror, you decided you would not be returning it). 

When the pies were done, ten in all, you set aside two for tomorrow’s Friendsgiving. You knew the boys could eat the other eight by themselves no problem, but that was not in the spirit of Thanksgiving. 

“The spirit of Thanksgiving isn’t even a thing!” Steve whined.

“Y’all can each take one home. And we can eat one now. That leaves five. Bucky, maybe you can bring one up to Tony? And the rest can be put out in the kitchen for everyone. You should definitely text Sam and Nat first, though. Real friends give friends a heads-up about free food.”

“This feels like more of an order than a suggestion,” Bucky said. 

“You are 100% correct, Sergeant. We can make pies any time. For Christmas. Or just ‘cause. And I’ll let y’all keep all ten.” 

“You said we can eat one right now?” Steve said eagerly, already at his fridge getting whipped cream and vanilla ice cream. 

The pie was delicious. You were surprised you got more than a few bites, but your boys were being very polite, holding back until you’d eaten your fill. They finished the shared pie, half of their personal ones, and all of the ice cream. You’d have to tell your mom that one turkey wouldn’t cut it this year. 

“That pie was damn good, huh? Don’t you want your friends to experience it?” you said. 

“No,” Bucky said stubbornly. 

“What am I gonna do with all this extra whipped cream?” Steve asked. 

“I have a few ideas,” Bucky said, picking up the can and dispensing a dollop on Steve’s collarbone before licking it off. Steve reached for the can with a mischievous glint in his eye and you had to shut it down before a whipped cream fight ensued. You’d had enough outfit changes for the day.

“Alright, you two. Save it for later. Bucky, run a pie up to Tony’s while we take the others down.”

You kissed Bucky and he grumbled as he went to follow your orders. You knew he was nervous that Tony might never fully forgive him, but avoiding him wasn’t gonna change anything. You and Steve took the remaining four pies downstairs to the kitchen, where Sam and Nat were already waiting, plates and forks in hand. 

“What’s with all the flannel? Was there a 5-for-1 sale at the Lumberjack Depot?” Nat snarked. 

“Say what you want. My girlfriend likes it,” Steve smiled. 

“Amen!” you said. 

“You don’t own a single flannel shirt, Nat?” Sam asked. “They’re so cozy!”

Bucky walked in with a spring in his step, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Tony was pleasantly surprised,” he reported to you. “He knew it was your doing, of course, but still seemed appreciative.” 

“I’m proud of you, baby.” You gave him a kiss. 

“Get a room,” Rhodey called as he entered the kitchen and helped himself to a slice of pie. 

“You’re welcome,” you said pointedly as he took a bite. He thanked you and left with his plate. 

“It really is good,” Sam said. “This pie is the best thing I’ve eaten in a while.”

Steve wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your neck. “I can’t say the same,” he whispered. You felt your face start to heat up from his flirting. 

“Maybe we _should_ get a room,” you whispered back. 

The three of you said goodbye to Sam and Nat and went back upstairs. 

….

When you got home that night, you called your mom to let her know of your plan to bring two friends with big appetites home for Thanksgiving. 

“Who is it? Liv? Brandon?”

“They’re actually new friends. Steven and James.”

“Two boys? Where did you meet them?”

“I met Steve at a bookstore and Bu—I mean, James—on the subway.”

“The _subway_?! Amy—”

You stopped her before she could go on one of her anti-New York tirades. “Calm down. They’re good guys.”

“Random men you met on the streets of New York City?!” 

“Well, I suppose you’ll be able to decide for yourself when you meet them.”

“I don’t know about this, Amy. What are their names? I’m googling them!” 

You slowly spelled out their full names for her so that she could type them out. 

“Are you sure they gave you their real names? All that’s coming up is Captain America and the Winter Soldier.” 

You sent her a photo of the six of you at the hockey game. You directed her to check her cell phone and walked her through the process of opening the photo.

“Hey! It’s you and Liv and Kiara! You look cute! And I’ll be darned, Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon! You three ran into them at a hockey game? Very cool!” 

“Yeah, so Steve and Bucky are the friends that I’m bringing home for Thanksgiving.”

“Good one, Amy. You actually had me going for a second. The photo is very convincing. Is it… what’s that thing called where you fake the picture?”

“Photoshop?” 

“Yeah, Photoshop!” 

You sighed. She wasn’t getting it. You didn’t necessarily want to tell her _everything_ , but she needed to understand that they were actually coming. You sent her the most platonic pumpkin patch photo you had—the three of you holding your pumpkins and smiling. You also included a photo with Nat and Sam and your carved pumpkins. Finally, you sent a photo of you three at the fair holding your Howling Commandos teddy bears. You would have sent more, but you realized as you scrolled through the Halloween and paint night photos that you didn’t have a lot of mom-friendly pictures of the three of you. 

“Amy! Are you actually friends with the Avengers? You didn’t tell me!”

“They’re new friends. And they don’t have anywhere to spend Thanksgiving.”

“They don’t have Avengers Thanksgiving?”

“That’s what I said! So I told them that they could spend it with us, if that’s ok with you. They can take my room and I’ll bunk with Anna. And I will help you cook because they eat a _lot_.” 

Your mom agreed and you talked over details. When you hung up, you realized that there was no turning back now. They were meeting your family. _Is it too soon to introduce them to my parents? Am I wrong for telling my family that we’re just friends? Eventually, if everything goes to plan, I’ll have to tell them that we’re actually dating. Anna’s cool with it, but will everyone else be? What if they don’t approve?_

You tried not to let your thoughts trouble you too much. You needed to focus on getting everything ready for tomorrow’s Friendsgiving. Maybe your friends would be able to give you some reassurance. 


	2. Come, Ye Thankful People, Come

It had all started the year Kiara had insisted everyone dress as slutty pilgrims for Friendsgiving. Ever since, this event had been an excuse to wear the most fabulous, ridiculous clothing you could find. You, Brandon, and Camilla had gotten sexy medieval royalty costumes. Liv had on a deep purple tuxedo with matching velvet cape. Kiara named her look the “Deconstructed Turkey” and she wore an orange feather dress and bejeweled turkey hat. Michelle came straight from work so was still in her business clothes. You knew this would happen and had a tutu ready for her, as well as the option of a tophat, masquerade mask, or tiara. She went with the tophat. When Vi saw her, she ran back to her apartment to grab an elaborate cane to complete Michelle’s look. Vi was in Britney’s 2001 VMAs outfit, complete with stuffed python, and P was in a vintage silk dressing gown, heels, and pearls. Liv’s friend Jacob was a Victorian vampire, and her coworker Sienna was stunning as ever in her blue and gold gown, a remake of one of Margaery Tyrell’s dresses from Game of Thrones. She worked in wardrobe at the magazine and had a previous life as a costumer, which was evident in the detail and craftsmanship of her handmade costume. 

You all mingled for a while, enjoying Camilla’s famous sangria and the fancy tequila Michelle brought, (which many mixed with your trademark non-alcoholic Slutty Pilgrim Punch). You got a lot of compliments on the new bench and planter, which you would be sure to pass along to the boys. Once everyone had arrived, your annual scavenger hunt/puzzle/drinking game commenced. 

Plastic easter eggs shaped like footballs were hidden in your apartment and guests looked for them throughout the night. Each egg contained several puzzle pieces, and the goal was to have the 50-piece puzzle completed by the end of the night. This year’s puzzle was a very cute scene of mice living in a pumpkin house, although your friends wouldn’t get to see it unless they completed the puzzle (as an added challenge, the box that featured a picture of the completed puzzle was safely stashed in your room). Anyone who found one of the mini footballs had to take a drink and then open it to reveal their puzzle pieces, which they would pass off to other people in the room based on what was written on the back. On the back of each piece there was a truth or dare question or a ‘most likely to’ statement. If you had the pieces you would hand them off to people that you wanted to see do that dare or who you thought fit that superlative. If you were on the receiving end of a puzzle piece, you took a drink and then answered the question, did the dare, or accepted your new title as Most Likely to Fall For a Pyramid Scheme. You then fit your puzzle piece into the puzzle, and if you accidentally fit together two pieces that weren’t a match you had to drink. Everyone drank when the border of the puzzle was completed and when it was finished. 

P, Camilla, and Michelle always got _super_ into it, and each found an egg within the first half-hour. Michelle gave the ‘Most Likely to do Porn’ superlative to Kiara, who flipped her the bird as she took her shot. Jacob was dared by Camilla to speak in an Australian accent until the next egg was found. He repeatedly slipped up and consequently had to take several shots before P found an egg and asked Brandon about his recurring daydream. 

“Opening our bookstore,” he gestured at you and Camilla. 

“Working title: ABC books,” you said fondly. 

“Is it a children’s store?” Michelle asked. 

“Nope. It’s the first letters of our names. We thought that might get confusing, which is why we’re not actually going with ABC.” 

“Aww, that’s so cute though!” Sienna said. 

“I really wanna find a way to work ABC into the catchphrase or signage or something: ‘Do you know your ABCs? Meet the owners!’” 

“You’ve really thought this out!” P said. 

“We talk about it all the time, text each other ideas,” Camilla said. “Amy even made us a collaborative Pinterest board!” 

“Have you looked at property? Found any investors?” Michelle asked. 

“It’s just a dream,” Brandon said. “Something we tell ourselves to get us through the day.” 

“Amen,” Camilla raised her glass. You and Brandon clinked yours against hers. 

You didn’t want Brandon to be right, but he was. For all your planning, the store would never come to fruition. Even if you were serious about it, you wouldn't even know where to begin planning: you didn’t know the first thing about starting a business!

“Alright,” you said, changing the subject, “who’s ready to eat?”

Dinner was a potluck, and everyone had laid out their dishes on Bertie when they arrived. You fixed your plates before getting seated at the table that you and Liv had set up for the occasion. The food was as delicious as ever: Jacob brought homemade ravioli; Sienna had made roasted carrots and rosemary garlic crispy potato stacks; P brought lumpia; Vi, the Thanksgiving MVP, made a gorgeous, juicy turkey and stuffing; Michelle had brought roasted brussels sprouts and butternut squash from her favorite restaurant (and you shuddered to think of how much it cost); Camilla brought pigeon peas and rice (her recipe rivaled your grandma’s); Kiara made these super cute Thanksgiving Deviled eggs she had found on Pinterest, and Liv made her grandmother’s famous cranberry sauce. What you loved most about Friendsgiving was the opportunity to eat good food with good friends. Some of them brought food you wouldn't eat at your own Thanksgiving, and you loved getting a slice of their home lives and traditions. Friendsgiving was especially comforting to those of your group who didn’t have the best relationships with their family, or whose work schedule prevented them from going home.

When everyone was seated, Kiara’s signature toast began the dinner: “To all the kisses we’ve snatched...”

“AND THE SNATCHES WE’VE KISSED!” the rest of the table roared as everyone clinked glasses. All egg-hunting was put on pause as you enjoyed the food and chatted about life. You had all collaborated on a Spotify playlist so music for the evening drifted between Ciara and Vivaldi. 

For dessert, you of course had the apple pie you made with the boys, as well as Brandon’s Pumpkin Pasties. He’d made them for a themed Harry Potter marathon last year and they were a hit. Over dessert you always took a moment to go around and say what you were thankful for, as well as humbly petition Harold the Golden Turkey to grant any wishes you had. Everyone took a break from mouthfuls of apple pie and pumpkin pasties to share gratitude as well as hopes. Normally your wishes were pretty generic: safe travels, good health. But this year you were hoping everything went smoothly when the boys met your family. Other than Kiara and Liv, you had been pretty tight-lipped about your relationship, although everyone but Jacob and Sienna already knew about it. 

“Are you sure they’re worthy of meeting _The_ Mama Carlisle?” Brandon asked. 

“They are. And I’ll bring them to something soon so you can all get to know them better.” 

“Good! I didn’t get a chance to grill them last time!” Vi said. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Kiara took care of that,” you said. You, Liv, and Kiara laughed at the memory of her interrogation at the hockey game. 

“Has everyone met them but me?!” Brandon asked. 

“I met Steve when he came by the library,” Camilla boasted. 

“And you didn’t tell me?!” Brandon whined. 

“He was in and out really quickly,” you said. 

“I hope not!” Kiara joked. 

“Vi, you met them?” Michelle asked. 

“Yeah, the three of us cooked burgers one night and accidentally made too many, invited some neighbors over to eat,” you explained.

“Wait! That was them?!” P choked on her pie. 

“Maybe it wasn’t that obvious,” Vi said, conceding that their “disguises” might work on most people. 

“Don’t worry, Brandon. You’re not alone. I haven’t met them either,” Michelle said. Her tone was accusatory, as if she hadn’t been offered multiple opportunities to meet them. You understood that she was busy, but it wasn’t your fault she hadn’t met them. 

“We missed you at hockey,” Liv said to Michelle.

“I had to meet a client,” Michelle said defensively. You had noticed she’d asked Harold about closing a deal. You hoped she was taking care of herself. 

“Well, you’re here now!” you said. “I’ll bring them to the Christmas party so you will all have plenty of opportunity to hang out with them there. Provided we survive Thanksgiving with my family, that is.” 

“I’m sure everything will go well,” P assured you. 

“They’re such gentlemen. Your mom will love them!” Liv said. 

“I know you’re worried about the lie, but I think it’s good you told your mom that you’re just friends. You can ease your family into it and let them get to know Steve and Bucky without worrying about judgment,” Kiara said. 

“Who knows?” Camilla said. “Maybe the trip will go really well and you’ll end up telling them anyway!” 

“I don’t know about that, but y’all are making me feel a lot better, thank you. Now, enough about me. Let’s drink, dance, and finish that puzzle before Jacob passes out on my couch.”

“Hey! I’m completely fine,” he slurred. 

“Alright, bud, whatever you say,” Liv giggled. 

Brandon asked for a hint as to a football’s location and you gave him one. Soon he was retrieving the egg from the witch’s cauldron (yes, your Halloween decorations were still up) and asking Kiara for an embarrassing vacation story. 

“Definitely that time in Miami at the pool party,” she said, covering her face with her hands at the memory. You and Michelle were already giggling. You had all been dancing but Kiara was really going for it and trying to impress this hot guy she had been eyeing. All it took was one wrong move on that slick pool deck and you spent the rest of the night at urgent care getting stitches for Kiara’s chin. She still ended up going out with the guy, but her face hurt too much for her to kiss him or even smile at him. 

You were dared to give Brandon a lap dance. You rolled your eyes as Camilla giggled out the dare. Your friends loved to make you and Brandon do this. Vi was quick to change the song to fit the mood as you got ready to fulfill the 60-second dancing requirement. As always, you didn’t hold back. You and Brandon’s showmanship was probably why your friends always requested this in the first place. Crawling on the floor, stroking the face, straddling the lap and grinding: all were commonplace for your dances. The first time you had gone to a party with Brandon, you learned that his drunk alter-ego loved to give lap dances. He eventually taught you how to give them, and now your friends insisted on a show at every gathering.

Jacob was in the middle of explaining why he didn’t deserve the title of lightweight when you noticed Kiara sneaking off towards your room. 

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“I _really_ want pizza!”

“You always want pizza when you’re drunk,” Liv said. 

Kiara ignored her. “Gimme the iPad.” 

“No.” 

“Come _on_! They _want_ you to use it!”

“You don’t need pizza. We’ve got plenty of food here!” 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t hit the same spot as pizza,” Kiara complained. 

“Pizza _does_ sound kinda good right now,” Brandon said. You rolled your eyes as Kiara cheered. 

“You’re the only person in the world who hates being a sugar baby,” Kiara said to you. 

“I am _not_ a sugar baby!”

“Amy’s a sugar baby?” Brandon asked. 

“Oh my God. Are you having an illicit affair with Tony Stark?” Camilla asked. 

P chimed in: “Amy? An affair? Never!” 

“Thank you, P! I am _not_ a sugar baby and the only two men in my life are Steve and Bucky, who refuse to let me pay for anything, even when I’m online shopping.”

“Wait, what?” Michelle said. 

“They got me a new phone, tablet, and laptop—”

“Wow,” Camilla said. 

“That’s not even the good part!” Kiara squealed. 

“They got me those devices so that we could have secure communication.” 

“Really?” Vi asked. 

“Yeah. That way no one can hack our messages or anything. It also means that my nudes are very secure,” you laughed. 

“ _Nudes?!_ ” Michelle choked on her drink. That’s right, she had missed your transition from nun to hoe. 

“I may send them some videos when they’re away on missions.”

“Wait... _videos_?!” Kiara was shocked and impressed. “Of what, exactly?”

“Me.” 

“Can we get some more details?”

You covered your face with your hands. You talked about sex with your friends all the time, but you were usually analyzing their sexual escapades and not your own.

“Someone find me a Truth or Dare puzzle piece!” Kiara yelled.

A frantic search for eggs produced two: one was in the basket of fruit on the kitchen counter and the other was behind the pillows on your new bench. There was one truth or dare piece among the newly-collected puzzle pieces. You took a sip of your drink, knowing that if you chose dare they would just dare you to tell the truth. 

“If you must know, the first video consisted of me in lingerie, teasing them. The second was more... _explicit_ in nature. It may or may not have involved a sex toy. Anyway, now that that’s settled, let’s get Kiara some pizza.” 

Kiara took the bait and left the sexting topic alone, running to your room to grab your tablet. She pulled up the online ordering menu of her favorite pizza place. She made sure to get an order of garlic knots, which even you had to admit sounded good right about now. 

A Megan Thee Stallion song came on and you ended up having an impromptu dance party until the food arrived. 

“How much is the total?” P asked, bringing up Venmo on her phone. 

“It’s free!” Kiara said. 

“It’s not free,” you corrected. “The pizza still cost money, we’re just not the ones footing the bill.” 

“Is this courtesy of the sugar daddy?” Brandon asked. 

You sighed and finished explaining to them what you had started earlier. 

...

“Hey, boys? I think there’s something wrong with my tablet.”

“Why? What happened? Is it glitching?” Their minds always went to the worst place. 

“No, no—nothing like that. It’s just Kiara’s over to watch a movie and I’m trying to buy a pizza. Someone else’s card information is locked in and I can’t change it. I tried other sites too and all of them have payment details pre-loaded.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s supposed to be like that.”

“What do you mean? I don’t want to charge something to someone else’s card!” 

“It’s fine.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’? I need a little more detail before I commit credit card fraud.” 

They laughed. Bucky said, “I forgot how bad you are at surprises. It’s our card. We loaded the payment info into all of your devices.” 

“Oh...That won’t be...necessary.” 

“We know it’s not _necessary_ , but we don’t want you to have to pay for anything.”

“I don’t know...Is there any way for me to bypass this and input my own card details?” 

“Why would you want to do that?” 

“What if I want to buy y’all a surprise or something?” 

“We don’t look at your purchase history.” 

“So you just get the bill and pay it?” 

“We don’t even look at the bill.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, the point isn’t for us to look at any of your purchase information. We just want you to be able to get whatever you need, whatever you want, without having to think about whether you can afford it.” 

“I have the things I need.” 

“Do you have everything you want?” 

“Of course not, but—”

“Okay then.” 

“What if I want a Ferrari?” 

Bucky laughed. “It would save you from taking the subway to work. Although finding parking in the city can be tough.” 

“I’m serious!” 

“You’re seriously thinking about buying a Ferrari?” 

“No, but like...There’s no budget or credit limit or anything? I just—What are the rules?” 

Steve laughed. “There are no rules.” 

“I don’t like that.” 

“Deal with it,” Bucky said cheekily. 

You sighed. “I just wanted to order a pizza.” 

“Order it!” 

You hesitated. Bucky spoke your full name in his commanding tone, ordering you to use the iPad as you normally would without worrying about the cost. He could get anything when he used that voice, and he didn’t use it often. 

“No fair,” you said quietly. 

You heard your boyfriends chuckling. “Enjoy the pizza, baby. Love you.” 

“Love y’all.” 

So you ordered the pizza and told Liv and Kiara they didn’t owe you anything. Kiara was especially eager to use the card whenever possible, but you still weren’t completely comfortable with it, often borrowing Liv’s laptop to order stuff. After the insane first dates you'd had, you knew you shouldn’t be worrying about their wallets, but you didn’t want to abuse their generosity (which is why you had decided against getting the Ferrari). Food with friends, however, was always worth it. 

… 

Your friends wanted to make a video of them holding up their slices of pizza and thanking Daddy Bucky and Daddy Steve for the snack. You texted it to them with the message: “Just ordered pizza on the tablet. Thank you. P.S. I’m not gonna start calling y’all ‘Daddy’ so don’t even ask.” Steve, who had recently gotten into emojis, replied with a wall of crying laughing and pizza emojis. Bucky responded that he was glad you seemed to be having a good time. You really were.

You, Michelle, and Kiara were dared to perform your Jr. High talent show routine. Brandon had seen the archival footage and wanted to see it live. You actually remembered a good bit of it, which was especially impressive considering your co-stars’ levels of intoxication. By the end of the routine, the three of you were collapsed in a heap of giggles on the floor as the Big Time Rush song kept blasting from the speakers. 

By the end of the night, you finished the puzzle (and all of the drinks). You all took a picture around the completed masterpiece before your neighbors Vi and P stumbled home. Jacob and Sienna lived together, so they went home soon after. You invited everyone else to stay over so they wouldn’t have to stumble home alone. Michelle was the only one who declined, citing an early work day. She called herself a car. You made sure everyone took some leftovers with them when they left. Although this year, you realized, you had a two-man clean-up crew for any extra food that you and Liv were unable to finish. Camilla preferred her own space, so she slept on the couch. Kiara and Brandon got to experience your cool new bed. As you fell asleep, you felt a lot better about next week’s trip back home. You also couldn’t wait to bring Steve and Bucky to next month’s Christmas party with your friends. You were excited about the opportunity for the people you loved most to meet the men you loved most. 


	3. We Gather Together

You rang the doorbell nervously. Your parents normally would’ve picked you up from the airport, but you wanted to avoid any awkward car chit-chat. Your mom threw open the door and gathered you into a big hug. She shook Steve and Bucky’s hands and welcomed them inside. You could tell that, despite your efforts to prepare her, she was still a little shocked that two superheroes were actually standing in her home. You went and hugged your grandmother, who was on the recliner in the family room watching one of her stories. She politely introduced herself to Steve and Bucky, telling them that she had grown up watching the Howling Commandos specials on TV. You were a little embarrassed, but the boys seemed flattered. _Everything’s going OK so far,_ you thought, cautiously optimistic about how this trip would go _._

You showed the boys upstairs to your old bedroom, where they would be staying. This room represented all the stages of your childhood. The purple walls and purple bedspread showcased your favorite color, and your overflowing bookshelf—complete with everything from Junie B. Jones to Pretty Little Liars to Audre Lorde—reflected your changing literary interests over the years. On one shelf your high school diploma sat next to a collector’s edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, while an elementary school clay art project kept some makeup brushes company on top of your dresser. Your room wasn’t very large, but your full size bed would be able to comfortably accommodate your supersoldiers. 

They spent a moment taking everything in; inspecting all of the framed photographs and various other artifacts of your past. Then Bucky found the motherlode: yearbooks from all 13 years of grade school. They flopped on the bed and began flipping through them all. They looked at all the pictures of you from various clubs and activities. They looked at the signatures on the blank pages at the front and back of the book, reading everything your friends had written. You snapped pictures of your inside jokes and sent them to Kiara and Michelle. The heart with “AC + MW” written inside it did not go unnoticed, and you had to tell the boys about your 9th grade crush on Michael Watts, a very cute senior. That crush didn’t go anywhere (except for a few shy hellos in the hallways), but that didn’t stop your friends from writing your couple initials all over your yearbook, which was especially awkward when you had gotten the last-minute courage to ask him to sign your yearbook. You showed the boys where he had signed his name and written “Have a great summer, and enjoy the next few years!” He had punctuated the sentiment with a winky face, and that “;)” had you floating on cloud 9 for the entire summer. Then you started 10th grade and found a new boy to project all your romantic hopes onto. 

You thought that watching your boyfriends analyze your childhood bedroom would’ve been stressful, or made you feel way too vulnerable, but it was actually fun. They seemed to be genuinely enjoying learning about your younger self. They didn’t even tease you about your 3rd grade pigtails—they actually found them adorable. 

“Do you have more pictures of you from when you were younger?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah...” you replied cautiously.

“Can we see?” Steve asked. 

“My mom has some photo albums, but—” They got up to go ask for them. “ _But_ y’all will probably regret asking for them. She took a _lot_ of photos of me when I was a kid.” They grinned. 

You trailed behind them downstairs. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Your mom retrieved several huge tomes of photo albums and set them out on the dining room table. Your grandmother came into the room to help narrate what was going on in each photo and who everyone was. There were some photos in the albums from before you were born, some of your mom when she was pregnant with you and then with Anna, and then photos of the two of you growing up. Your grandmother looked fondly at the photos of your late grandfather in his military uniform. He had been killed in the line of duty when your mother was a child. There were photos of your mother and her three siblings growing up, and you could really see the resemblance between you and your mother. You flipped through photos of you and Anna at various birthday parties and vacations. Young Kiara and Michelle made a couple of guest appearances. 

There were pictures of your parents on their wedding day and several other snapshots of them and the family over the years. Looking at these, you would never know that they had been divorced for 20 years. Hell, you still celebrated Thanksgiving with your dad’s family every year like nothing had changed. Hosting duties cycled between your dad and his two siblings every year, and this year was his year (AKA your mother’s year). He’d come over early tomorrow to handle the turkey, but everything else was up to your mom. And you and Anna whenever she needed an extra pair of hands. Grandma Billie had gotten less and less active in the cooking department over the years, but she still loved to come in and add extra seasoning to things when your mom wasn’t looking. Although your Friendsgiving had been delicious, it couldn’t hold a candle to the feast that you were in for tomorrow. Your mouth was watering just thinking about it. 

The boys still hadn’t lost interest by the fifth photo album, but you figured it was time to shut it down. “Alright, I think that’s enough pictures for the day.” 

“You’re right,” your mom said, shocking you. She loved going through these. “We should move on to videos!” _Ah. That’s the mom I know and cringe at._

The boys laughed at the look on your face.

“That is not what I meant!” you said.

“You two wanna see her in the school play, don’t you?” your mother asked Steve and Bucky.

They nodded eagerly. 

“Nope. No. They do not.” 

“Really? Because they seem to be nodding their heads,” she said. 

“Oh, yeah. They have this condition where they can’t tell the difference between shaking their heads and nodding them. Tragic, really. Leads to a lot of misunderstandings. Like, for example, that they want to see those old videos. They really don’t.” 

“Videos? Plural?” Bucky asked. He looked like a kid in a candy store. 

“So, mom, we should probably go ahead and order dinner, huh?” You always had Chinese food the night before Thanksgiving so you didn’t have to cook, and you were hoping the distraction would get your mom to drop the current topic of conversation. 

She turned to Steve and Bucky. “It’s okay, we’ve got the rest of the weekend to watch the videos, and this one—” she pointed at you, “likes to sleep in.” 

“She really does,” Steve laughed. You shot him a look. He cleared his throat nervously. 

“Anyways,” Bucky said quickly, “that sounds like a plan.” Hopefully your mother and grandmother hadn’t picked up on Steve’s comment. 

Dinner was quiet, with a lot of small talk. You were on edge the whole time, not wanting to slip up or say the wrong thing. You felt at home with your mom and grandma, and you were at ease with Steve and Bucky, but those two worlds colliding made you nervous. You couldn’t wait until Anna arrived tomorrow morning. Since she had actually spent some time with Steve and Bucky, she felt like a bridge between your worlds. The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. The boys of course tried to get you to stay the night with them, but you knew that was a bad idea. Your mom had a habit of not knocking, and you knew that tomorrow morning she would burst into Anna’s room expecting to see your sleeping self and instead see a bed that hadn’t been slept in. No, that would not go well. 

“You two better not get up to anything, either. Steve’s not quiet enough for that.”

“Hey,” Steve objected half-heartedly. He knew it was true. You all laughed. 

They each gave you a kiss after saying goodnight. 

“Night, boys,” you whispered as you left the room. “ _Behave_.”

“Never,” Steve playfully whispered as you walked away. 

You had trouble sleeping. You were in an unfamiliar bed while your boyfriends slept in the room next door. Your room. You hoped they didn’t crack open any of the old diaries you had stashed in there. Or start fooling around and wake the whole house. You tried not to stress, but tomorrow’s Thanksgiving meal felt high-stakes. 

…

“IIIIIMMMMM HOOOOOOME!” 

You woke up to the sound of Anna’s voice downstairs. You heard her greet your mom and grandma. You also heard your dad’s voice. He had picked Anna up from the airport. You brushed your teeth and splashed some water on your face before going to get Steve and Bucky, but they weren’t in your room. You went downstairs to say hi to Anna and your dad, and saw that Steve and Bucky had been put to work peeling sweet potatoes. 

You pulled your mom to the side. “Mom,” you whispered. “You put them to work? They’re _guests_.” 

“I know, but they insisted. Wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” _That sounds like them_. 

Steve and Bucky hurriedly wiped off their hands when your dad came into the kitchen and shook hands with him, exchanging formal greetings. Anna, on the other hand, bounded up and gave them each a hug. 

“I hope y’all are ready because I’ve got some new dance challenges for you.” 

Steve nodded. “We’ve been practicing our moves.” 

“Wait a minute,” your mom said. “Anna, you know them?” 

“Of course!” she said. Your mother looked puzzled but didn’t say anything. 

Thanksgiving prep soon kicked into high gear. After talking with your mom about the added guests, your dad had decided to make three turkeys this year. It was all hands on deck as you prepared an even larger meal than usual in your small kitchen. 

Your Aunt Rebecca and cousin Eliza arrived early to help, although as soon as they arrived, Eliza and Anna ran off to catch up. Age-wise, Eliza was right in the middle of you and Anna. Because you were the oldest, they got to play while you always had to stay and help, something you had resented in your youth. You were fine with it now because it allowed you to spend some time with your beloved aunt Rebecca. In your first days of life, when you were still in the hospital, Aunt Rebecca was the only person who could hold you and instantly get you to stop crying. Your parents had already picked out your middle name, but changed it to reflect that bond. Thankfully, it was a bond that had strengthened over time. If there was one family member you were _excited_ to tell about your relationship, it was her. Maybe you would call her after you survived this trip, see what she thought. 

When the food was almost ready, your Uncle Matthew and his wife Fiona showed up. They were the sort of fun and fabulous couple that everyone aspired to be. They had picked up Gramma Lynn and Grampa Jim on the way, so their arrival meant that the entire cast of characters for tonight’s feast had been assembled. You had left it up to your parents to tell the rest of the family about your two new guests, but based on the surprised looks on their faces, the message hadn’t made it to these four. The confusion-shock-confusion combo of facial expressions as they shook hands with Steve and Bucky was pretty funny. 

When it was time to eat, your dad blessed the food. He said that he was thankful for family _and_ friends, including Steve and Bucky, which was a great sign. By the time you said “Amen,” everyone was anxious to eat. There wasn’t enough room on the table for the food, so it was laid out on every available kitchen surface. Everyone served themselves and then went into the dining room to eat. As always, you fixed your grandparents’ plates because you knew just how they liked everything. You knew how Gramma Lynn loved everything on her plate to be drowning in gravy, how Grandma Billie liked her plate to be half mac n’ cheese, and how Grampa Jim wanted lots of rutabaga and no collard greens.Once everyone was served, you all dug into the delicious feast. By some miracle, there was plenty of food, even with Steve and Bucky’s appetites. The first few minutes were silent—save for the clink of silverware on plates—as everyone focused on enjoying the meal. After a while, however, your family started to get curious about your new guests. 

“So, Steve and Bucky,” your Auntie Fiona said, “with everything going on earlier, I don’t think we got a proper introduction to you. Tell us about yourselves and how you got to know our Amy.” 

You shot her a look but she just shrugged with a grin. The rest of your family leaned in with curiosity to hear what they said. “Guys, this isn’t a job interview. No need to grill our guests,” you said to your nosy family. 

“Oh, nonsense! It’s just a few harmless questions,” your Gramma Lynn said, looking at Steve and Bucky and pointedly awaiting their answers. 

Steve cleared his throat. “Um, I’m Steve. I was born and raised in Brooklyn. I was an only child, although Bucky and I have been friends since we were kids. I used to make a lot of art, and I’m starting to get back into it again. I, uh, still live in the city. I was taking a stroll through my old neighborhood when it started raining. I came across a girl who was drenched and clearly very lost and I offered her my umbrella and some directions. That’s how I met Amy.” He smiled at you and you smiled back. For a moment everything else faded away...until you heard your family laughing. 

“Of _course_ that’s how you met her!” Aunt Rebecca laughed. “Bless her little heart, but this child is _terrible_ with directions.” Everyone (except you) laughed. 

“The only thing worse than her directional skills is her driving skills!” Anna added, causing everyone to laugh harder. 

“Well, I’ve never gotten a ticket, and I don’t think anyone here can say the same,” you said. 

“Hey! That stop sign was completely covered by branches, that was not my fault,” Anna said. 

“Besides, I bet you’d have a ticket if you ever actually drove,” Eliza said. 

“You don’t wanna go there with me, Liza. You’re _hitting the wall_ of my patience.” 

Her eyes went wide and she clammed up. You couldn’t help but laugh as you threatened her with the story of how her mom’s car had really gotten that dent when she was 15. 

“Alright, Bucky,” Auntie Fiona said, “How about you?” 

“I was the oldest of four. Best friends with Steve, of course. I did a lot of boxing before I joined the army, served in the army, and then I...left the army. Did some, uh...private contracting—” he cleared his throat, “for a while. Stopped that. Lived in Wakanda for a few years, tended some goats. And now I live in the city. I was babysitting our friend Tony’s daughter Morgan when we got separated on the subway. Amy didn’t hesitate to help—she’s really good with kids, and she and Morgan were the best of friends by the time I caught up with them.” 

“You guys are _way_ too modest,” Auntie Fiona said.

“I know!” Aunt Rebecca said. “Not _one_ mention of saving the world!” 

“Do you go on top-secret missions all the time?” your Uncle Matthew asked excitedly.

“ _Uncle Matt_ ,” you hissed. 

Steve looked at you. “It’s fine, b—Amy.” Close call: he had almost called you baby.

“Please tell me you’ve got a great car chase story,” your dad pleaded. It was his and Uncle Matt’s fault that you had seen every action movie ever made. 

“You _have_ to tell the Lisbon story,” you told Steve and Bucky.

They regaled your family with the daring story for the rest of the meal. After dessert, everyone found their favorite place in the house to lie down. Grandma Billie had to shoo Uncle Matthew out of her recliner so that she could put her feet up and fall asleep to the TV. Uncle Matt parked himself on the couch next to your dad to watch the game. There was a daybed in the front room where Anna and Eliza set up shop. Your mother and aunts were going to get started on dishes, but Steve and Bucky weren’t having it. They wouldn’t even let _you_ help. 

That left your mom, Aunt Rebecca, and Auntie Fiona wandering the house aimlessly, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with themselves now that one of the major Thanksgiving Day responsibilities had been handled. They ended up gossiping at the dining room table. There was a window seat at the back of the house where you went to digest your meal, leaning your head against the cool window and snuggling into a cozy blanket. You must have dozed off, because you woke up when Steve and Bucky entered the room. You smiled at them groggily. They came to sit with you, lifting your legs and resting them across their laps. 

“So...first Thanksgiving in a while—what did you think?” you asked.

“It was perfect. And you were right about the pie,” Steve said. 

“Seriously,” Bucky said reverently. “I’d ask for the recipe, but I know that I couldn’t do it justice.” 

“Well, it sounds like you’ll just have to come back next year. Although, I bet if you asked nicely, my mom would be willing to make you another sweet potato pie before then.”

“Today was really great, thank you. I didn’t realize how much I missed this,” Bucky said. 

You chanced a quick kiss. “You’re very welcome.” 

When you checked the clock on your phone, you saw that it was time to gear up for the main event of the night: Black Friday Shopping. 

“Alright, boys. Off your asses. Time to get ready for battle.” 

“Battle?!” 

“We’re going shopping. You two will be very useful in helping us fight through the crowds.” 

Your mom was pulling on her tennis shoes and going over the game plan of which stores you would visit in which order. You didn’t usually buy much: just some DVDs and other random things, but your family loved participating in the spectacle. You hit Walmart first and had a lot of trouble finding parking. Your mom let you, Anna, Steve, and Bucky out of the car so you could go ahead and start looking for the items on your list. The boys were a little overwhelmed by the chaos and the crowds and trailed behind you and Anna as you deftly wove through the throng. 

You reached the back of the store where the cardboard displays of DVDs were located. You had arrived half an hour after the store opened, and by now nothing was in its proper place. Your mom caught up to you as you dug through the stacks of plastic cases, searching for movies. Steve and Bucky were way too polite for this event, pausing to let every harried, aggressive shopper with a cart roll by on their way to the electronics. The third time the boys got bumped out of the way by an old lady, you took them aside for a pep talk. 

“Alright, y’all: you’ve gotta getcha heads in the game. One: Don’t let people push you around. Two: Make sure to look in unlikely places. Three: If you find an item you like, keep it close to you at all times. Got it?” 

They nodded and resumed searching, this time with more of the ferocity and determination necessary to survive this experience. You found half of the movies you were looking for, as well as some Christmas gifts for your young cousins. You, Bucky, and Steve also ended up impulse-buying adorable matching fuzzy slippers in different colors. Once you had fought your way through the maze of blocked pathways and cordoned-off aisles to the front of the store, you waited in line to check out. You, your mom, and Anna looked into other shoppers’ carts to see what they bought, making a game out of guessing how much it cost. When you finally left the store and made it back to the car, Steve and Bucky exhaled. 

“Well...that was certainly…” Steve was at a loss for words.

Your mom started the car. “One down,” she said. 

Steve and Bucky exchanged panicked glances and you couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re just getting started,” you whispered. “If you want to ditch us, I totally understand.” 

“No, no. We can do this,” Bucky said, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. 

At Target you got the other half of the movies you had been looking for, then you hit Kohl’s and got a blender for Anna’s dorm room, a few sweaters, and some jewelry. You made a final stop at Ulta. You had planned to take a quick look at some brushes and shadows that were on sale, but of course got distracted by lipglosses. You felt bad for your poor boyfriends, who assuredly had whiplash from witnessing the duality of man: earlier they had gotten to spend a wholesome Thanksgiving—their first one in decades—with your family, and now they were having the full chaos and bloodshed of unrestrained capitalism thrust upon them. You had thrown them into the deep end by starting at Walmart. Ulta was practically a meditation retreat in comparison. Bucky even found a leather scrunchie to add to his collection! 

When you were finally done shopping, you headed home. You could practically smell the waves of relief wafting off the boys, feel the tension leaving their muscles, and hear their silent prayers thanking God for delivering them from corporate evil. Your grandmother always stayed up so you could show her your loot. When you were a kid, you had always looked forward to showing your grandmother your new toys. One year your mom let you buy a trampoline, and you and Anna had sprinted into the house to tell Grandma Billie (“hootin’, and hollerin’, and carryin’ on,” according to your mom). You could hardly get the words out, you had been so excited. No trampolines this year, but you still enjoyed showing your grandmother what you had bought.

Bucky and Steve even had a few of their own purchases to show off. When asked about their first Black Friday experience, they told her stories of the wild things they had seen (like a woman changing her child’s diaper on the floor in the middle of a roped-off aisle, or two grown men engaging in a tug-of-war over a gigantic stuffed teddy bear—things that no longer fazed Black Friday veterans such as yourself). 

When you were out shopping, you always made a point of trying to find something your grandmother would like. After everyone else had gone upstairs, you presented her with some cozy socks, lotion, and a necklace. She loved everything, just like you knew she would. You gave her a hug and a kiss and bade her goodnight. 

Buoyed by the ephemeral high that a little bit of good, old-fashioned consumerism could produce, you got ready for bed. Today had been a good day. They had met your family. Your worlds had officially collided. And yet the earth was still turning. Everyone had gotten along and had a good time. Even though you were now sharing a bed with your sister, who was a notoriously wild sleeper, you slept a lot easier that night. 

…

In the morning you were shocked to hear your mother call you down to breakfast. You and Anna looked at each other in confusion—she never cooked anything the week after Thanksgiving. It was all leftovers all the time (as it should be). You went downstairs to see that she had put out a whole spread. Steve and Bucky were already eating, plates piled high with eggs, grits, sausage, bacon, biscuits, and even hashbrowns and fried green tomatoes. 

“Did someone die?” Anna took the words right out of your mouth. If there were no tragedies, then you must have accidentally stumbled upon that wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination.

“No, but I figured our Northern friends have probably never had a real Southern breakfast before. Have you ever had grits?” she asked Steve and Bucky. 

“Amy makes them for us sometimes,” Steve smiled at you.

“Wow! Do you guys go over to Amy’s in the mornings just to eat breakfast?” your sister asked in a mock-innocent tone. You wanted to knock her out. The boys immediately went red but Steve was pretty quick on his feet. 

“Yep! Her food is _that_ good!”

You smiled at him. 

“Hmm, maybe I should start letting _you_ do all the cooking,” your mom said to you.

“Slow down there, I still have a lot to learn.” You dug into the delicious breakfast that your mother had whipped up with ease. You could only dream of the day that you would be this skilled in the kitchen. Bucky loved cooking and was excellent at it—maybe _he_ should be the one your mom passed all the family recipes down to. 

After breakfast, Anna was anxious to get in some TikTok time before the three of you left tomorrow. Some of the choreography was shockingly complex and you were having trouble hitting all of the booty pops. You and Steve kept turning the wrong way on the spins, messing everything up. Anna was in the middle of correcting your spacing when your mom called the two of you upstairs. She needed help moving the washer and dryer so she could clean behind them. 

Whenever you and Anna were home, your mom made sure to ask you for help with the projects that she couldn’t do on her own. Your dad was supposed to be helping her, but with both of their work schedules he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. That left the three of you huffing and puffing trying to move the heavy appliances, applying more and more elbow grease until you had finally nudged the dryer a smidge. You were all standing back, trying to think of a different way to move it, when you remembered that you didn’t have to struggle. With one call of their names, your boyfriends were there in an instant, easily moving the appliances forward so you could clean behind them. 

“You two are very handy to have around,” your mom said as they slid the appliances back into place. 

“Anything you need, we’re happy to help,” Steve said dutifully. 

Your mom’s eyes lit up. 

“You’re gonna regret saying that. This house has a _lot_ of unfinished projects,” you said. 

“It’s just a few quick things, really,” your mom said, lying through her teeth. 

That was how they spent the next few hours moonlighting as handymen: putting up curtain rods, replacing bulbs in tall light fixtures, and fixing kitchen cabinet handles that had broken off a long time ago. You were so accustomed to pulling on the sides of drawers to get them open that you still kept doing it even after the new handles had been installed. 

Your dad stopped by to spend time with everyone and your mother made sure to mention how it had taken the boys a few hours to complete projects she’d been asking him to do for years. They bickered good-naturedly as you and Anna looked on and rolled your eyes. Your dad commiserated with the boys about what it’s like when you, Anna, and your mom got to shopping. They answered carefully, but you could tell they shared your dad’s disdain for large crowds and hours-long shopping sprees. 

The boys were fixing the wobbly banister when your grandmother asked you to bring her a cup of tea. You put plenty of lime and honey in it like she liked. You brought it to where she was sitting in the front room, reading her well-loved copy of Little Women for the millionth time. You set the tea down on the table and were going to leave her to her reading when she stopped you and motioned for you to sit down. You sat in the chair next to her, where you had spent many an afternoon as a kid quietly reading beside her. 

“Now sweetheart, I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think both of those young men are in love with you!”

You laughed in response. She seemed perturbed by your lack of distress at what she thought would be an earth-shattering revelation.

“This is no laughing matter! I had best friends fall in love with me once, and it did _not_ end well.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Who knew you were such a player back in the day?”

“Still am, dear.” You laughed together before her tone returned to serious. “They seem like good men. Don’t play with their hearts.”

“I’m not.”

“Can you not work out who you care for more?”

You took a chance: honesty. “I love both of them.”

“Equally?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s an impossible choice. But you have to make it. Or they’ll make it for you, and you could lose them both.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not worried about that.”

“I know it feels good to be fought over, but trust me: they get tired of competing with another man for your affection.”

“They’re not competing for me. I’m...dating _both_ of them.”

“Both of them?! At the same time?”

You nodded. 

“Do they just divvy you up? One gets weekdays and the other weekends? Or one takes days and the other ni—”

“No, no. Not like that. The three of us are all dating.”

She looked truly puzzled. You held your breath.

“Well,” she said finally. “I can’t say I blame you. They are quite handsome.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Frankly, I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Shoot.”

“When you say that the _three_ of y’all are dating. What does that mean, exactly?”

“It just means when we go to a restaurant we get a table for 3 instead of 2. It’s just like any regular relationship, there just happens to be three people.”

“So, when you cook them breakfast in the mornings...it’s because they were already there from the night before?” 

You reluctantly told the truth. “Yeah?”

She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “You have a threesome? Every night?” Her tone was scandalized, but she looked almost giddy about hearing this gossip. 

You laughed. “Not _every_ night, but yeah.”

She took a moment to mull it over. You sincerely hoped she wasn’t thinking up Bible verses to condemn you with. You weren’t as mortified having this conversation as you had expected to be. Your relationship may not have been conventional, but it was amazing. You were proud of it, you realized. Proud to call those two “fine young men” yours. 

“That’s a lot of man,” she said finally. 

You agreed wholeheartedly. “A _whole lot_ of man.”

“And they’re superheroes! All that strength...And that metal arm! Does it hurt?”

 _Only when I want it to._ “No, no. They’re very gentle with me.”

“Not _too_ gentle I hope. Put those muscles to good use!”

You looked at her in shock. “Grandma!”

She laughed. “I can’t believe you brought home not one, but _two_ white boyfriends! And they’re technically older than me! Your daddy’s gonna have a _fit!_ ” She laughed hard, but that thought sobered you right up. _Shit. Does this mean I have to tell my parents now? The news can probably still wait until—_

“Amy!” you heard your name from the other room as both of your parents walked in. 

“What’s up—” 

“Did we overhear that correctly?” your mother asked. 

Your heart sank, but you tried to play it cool. “Overhear what?”

“You have a boyfriend?” she said.

“Y’know, it’s rude to eavesdrop. Y’all taught me that,” you joked half-heartedly. 

“Answer your mother,” your father said. 

“Yes.”

“Which one of them should I be interrogating?” your father asked.

“Both of them!” your grandmother said gleefully. 

“I don’t get it,” your mother said.

So you explained it to them. Several times. You thanked the Lord that your parents did not ask the personal questions that your grandmother had. They were mainly just trying to get their heads wrapped around everything. They called Anna into the room, demanding to know if she knew about the relationship, which she confessed to. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“Because you didn’t raise a snitch,” she shrugged. “And now that everything’s on the table, can I have my room back?” 

“Then where will Amy sleep?” your mother asked. _Oh, bless her pure lil heart._

Anna shot her a pointed look. Your mom looked shocked, while your dad was horrified. 

“You’re not...You three aren’t…” your mom said. 

“They are!” your grandmother said gleefully. You shot her a look. 

“I’m happy to keep staying with Anna,” you said. 

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea for now,” your mom said, voice sounding far away as she struggled to process the news.

“Well...I’m just gonna let y’all...marinate on that,” you said, backing out of the room. 

You went upstairs where you found the boys waiting at the top. “It’s an eavesdropping kinda day, huh?” you said humorlessly. They followed you as you walked to your room and shut the door. 

“We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have come. You weren’t ready to tell them,” Bucky said. 

“Oh, nonsense. It doesn't look like you two are going anywhere anytime soon, so it’s probably time they started getting used to the idea.” 

“Oh, we’re not going anywhere,” Steve said, hugging you. 

“Besides, there’s a silver lining: Everyone’ll finally stop asking me when I’ll bring a guy home.” 

“They bother you about that a lot?” 

“Only all the time. To be fair, I _am_ getting a little old,” you said wryly. 

“She said to her centenarian boyfriends,” Bucky said. 

You laughed. “In Southern years, I’m like 50. I’m almost 26 and I’d never had a boyfriend—it wasn’t looking too good.” 

“But...Twenty-six is so young,” Steve said. 

“There’s a saying: ring by spring. I should’ve been engaged by the end of my senior year of college.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s not like my parents are sticklers about that stuff, but they are starting to get a little antsy. When I was a teenager I’m sure they were thrilled that there were no boys in sight. Nowadays, not so much.” 

“That’s a lot of pressure.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“You guess?”

“I can be very stubborn if you haven’t noticed. A couple of comments every holiday isn’t going to bother me. Besides, the wait was obviously worth it,” you gestured at them. They pulled you into a hug and you three stayed like that for a while. Whatever happened, you were in this together. 

…

When your mother called you downstairs for dinner you felt like you were walking towards the gallows. You didn’t make eye contact with anyone as you got your food and sat down. The boys were quiet as well. You all just ate silently, awkwardly, the sound of clinking forks and plates deafening. You didn’t dare look at your parents. 

Your grandmother cleared her throat. “Well, I’m glad to see that my granddaughter’s got game. Just like her grandmother!” 

There was a moment’s pause before her words sunk in and everyone started laughing.

“I’d like to think she gets some of it from me,” your mother said. 

“Oh, honey,” your grandmother said condescendingly. Cue a fresh round of laughter. 

“Yeah, these kinds of things _definitely_ skip a generation,” Anna said. 

“ _Anna!_ ” your mother scolded through her laughter.

“She’s right,” Grandma Billie said. “There was this one time I was dating brothers—”

“I thought they were best friends,” you said. 

“No, that’s a different story. I’m so glad you and Anna are finally old enough to hear this stuff! Now, Walter and Herman Lewis...”

And just like that, you were having the kind of lively family dinner that you were used to. The peace was certainly fragile, but you’d take it. You were a little on edge during the whole meal, worried that it would go back to being awkward. Or, worse—that your parents would openly express disapproval. You realized that you had never done anything that they could disapprove of. Not out of any sense of duty. It was a coincidence, really. Your sense of fun just happened to be parent-approved: dressing up in silly costumes and putting together puzzles with your friends. Of course, when you told your parents the tale, you left out the drinking and the lapdances. In any case, your parents had never known you to do anything “scandalous” and that had changed. But that wasn’t your problem.

 _If they get mad at me about this relationship, then that’s on them. Their daughter is loved. Their daughter is cared for. Their daughter never thought she’d ever find something like this. And she isn’t letting go._

After dinner, your parents insisted on doing the dishes and retreated to the kitchen, no doubt talking about you. 

“Let’s go to Krispy Kreme!” Anna said suddenly. “Hot light’s on!” 

“Bring me back one!” Grandma Billie said. 

“How do you know the light’s on?” you asked. 

She held up her phone. “I have the app!” Her phone started ringing. “Crap. I’ve been waiting for Carly to call and update me. Maybe Steve or Bucky can drive? Bring me back two.” 

You nodded and she ran upstairs. You turned to Steve and Bucky. “Alright. Who wants to drive?” 

They glanced at each other before looking back at you. “You.” 

“I don’t think you want me to do that.” 

“You said you loved car rides and road trips.”

“I do. I love them. From the passenger seat.” 

“You can’t be _that_ bad, no matter what your entire family says.” 

“I’m not bad, I just don’t like it.” 

They looked skeptical. “You’re a good driver? Because your family seems to think you’re a hazard.” 

“You hit one curb _one_ time and you’re branded for life! That was back when I had my permit. The state of Georgia considers me a safe driver and has issued me a valid driver’s license.” 

“After seeing the way people drive down here, that’s not very comforting,” Bucky said. You laughed along with him and Steve before scolding him. 

“Hey! Don’t be rude! And if you insist, then I can drive,” you sighed dramatically. “I’m putting both of you in the backseat so you don’t distract me. But you _cannot_ backseat drive, got it?” They nodded. You grabbed the keys. “Alright. Let’s do this,” you said to yourself, trying to psych yourself up for the short drive ahead. 

You put on a playlist that would keep you alert-yet-calm and put the address into your phone. You scooted the seat forward, adjusted your mirrors, and took a breath before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. It was slow going, but you did a pretty good job of backing out. Driving out of your neighborhood was no problem, but busy streets and highways were not your friends. 

There were a couple of times where your timing at stoplights was off. Sometimes you hit the brakes at the last minute to avoid running a yellow light and sometimes you sped through yellow lights, your senses of responsibility and efficiency battling every time.

You turned on your blinker to get onto the highway, and then again so you could merge with traffic, which you did a pretty good job of! But then you had trouble getting the blinker to turn off. You were fumbling with it, trying to find the middle position for the lever that would shut it off, and each time overcorrecting. You were sure the people behind you were wondering what was going on as you rapidly switched between signaling left and right. After about 10 seconds you figured it out and turned your blinker off. 

At one point an 18-wheeler started merging onto the highway and you weren’t going fast enough to pass him. He started coming over on you and you slammed on the brakes, thankful that there was no one behind you. 

You sang the “let me over” song that you always sang when it was time to change lanes on the highway so you could exit. You were relieved when it was time to get off the highway and you were back on surface streets. 

One or two of your turns were a little sharper than necessary, but other than that you did a good job of making it to Krispy Kreme safely. You parked in the parking lot on the first try (you didn’t have to straighten your parking or anything!). All things considered, you had done a pretty good job.

You turned back to your passengers with a satisfied grin, ready to say “I told you so,” but their faces made you pause. “What?” you said. “We made it here in one piece!” 

“By the grace of God alone, “ Steve said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m a safe driver!” 

“If by ‘safe driver’ you mean ‘always driving below the speed limit and holding up traffic’, then I’d have to agree,” Bucky said. 

You gasped. “ _What?!_ I do not hold up traffic! If people want to speed, they can easily go around me. I refuse to apologize for being a law-abiding citizen. And if all you have to say about my driving is that I’m not in danger of a speeding ticket, then I think—”

“Oh, that’s not all I have to say,” Bucky said. “You drift within your lane, sometimes over the line, and the speed of your turns is always too slow or too fast, to name a few.” He smirked. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Steve? Do you agree with him?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s mouth and he was doing his darndest to fight it off, keep it from overtaking his face. “I think that you are very well-suited to the role of passenger,” he said diplomatically. 

“Wooowww. I cannot believe this! You _begged_ me to drive and I got us here safely and all I hear is complaints. You two are so ungrateful.” 

“Ungrateful? We almost died! Several times!” 

“No, we did not. Y’all are so dramatic, I swear.”

“Well, I think it might be best if I drive back,” Bucky said. 

“Fine by me. I hate driving. And I am secure in my skills. I’m not the best, but I’m not bad. You and my family are just haters.” 

“Let me get this straight: Everyone you’ve ever driven with is the problem, not you?” 

“Pretty much. Except for the person that administered my driving test: they gave me a B because they recognized my skills. I know how to drive. I’m just...out of practice.” 

“I’ll say,” Bucky said. 

“Alright, let’s get some donuts in those mouths so y’all can stop sassin’ me.” 

You went inside so the boys could get the full experience and watch through the glass as the donuts were made. As you waited in line, you grabbed paper hats for the three of you and snapped a selfie. You each ordered a hot donut and sat down to eat them. Steve and Bucky were appropriately astounded by the delicious donuts. 

“There’s nothing like a hot, fresh Krispy Kreme donut,” you said, enjoying the last bite of your donut, which was always gone too soon. The boys each ordered themselves a dozen to go and you got some for your family. Bucky drove back, making a point to obnoxiously narrate his “good driving practices”. 

When you got back, Anna was still on the phone, but ran downstairs to grab her donuts, pausing to ask how the ride went. 

“It went well,” you said, but Steve and Bucky’s faces told a different story. 

“Really? Because those two look like they were almost called home to Jesus tonight.” 

You laughed and shooed her upstairs. The boys brought your grandmother’s donut to her in the family room, while you took one to your mom’s bedroom. 

“Krispy Kreme?” you asked. “It’s hot.”

She nodded, accepting it. “Thank you.” 

You turned to leave. She called your name. You turned back to her. 

She started several different sentences before she settled on: “So, how long have y’all been…?”

“Since the middle of July.” 

“Were you going to tell us?” 

“Eventually.”

“But you already told Anna.”

“That was an accident. She came over unannounced and the boys were taking me to dinner. She ended up having dinner with us.” 

She thought about that for a moment. 

“Why can’t...why can’t you just have one boyfriend? Is this just for fun? Something 20-somethings in New York do? I don’t get it.”

“It’s not just ‘for fun’ I lo—“ You took a breath. “I love them.” You looked at her defiantly, daring her to challenge you on this. 

She didn’t. 

“You’re happy?” she asked. You nodded. “They’re good to you?” 

“Really good.” 

“They seem like perfect gentlemen.” 

“They really are.” 

“Okay,” she said. And you knew it was. She may not have understood it, but she was willing to accept it, and that was all you needed. You left her to her donut, going downstairs to where your boyfriends and grandmother were laughing. You felt like you could breathe for the first time since you had arrived. Everything was out in the open, and everyone was cool. Your dad was the only unknown, but if your mom was on board then soon he would be too.

…

The next morning you were getting packed up when you heard your mom’s voice calling the boys down. _I wonder what that’s about._ You hurried through getting ready just in case she was grilling them. 

When you got downstairs they were helping your mom get her cake carriers off a high shelf so she could send you each home with a lemon pound cake. 

“Thanks, mom!” you said. This cake was delicious, and it was so thoughtful of her to make some for Steve and Bucky too. 

“Thank you so much,” Steve said. “If this cake is half as good as your sweet potato pie, then we are in for a real treat.” You chuckled to yourself. _What a brown noser._ Your mom smiled bashfully and tried to wave away the compliment. 

Breakfast was quiet, peaceful. Your mother had made salmon croquettes this morning, another favorite of yours. You weren’t excited to leave, but it was time to get back to life in New York. You were glad that everything had gone smoothly. You were even glad that your parents were so nosy, since it meant that you had told them the truth. 

Your dad arrived to say goodbye around the same time as the car that would take you to the airport. You gave him a big hug. He shook hands with the boys and then asked them to help him bring the bags to the car. While they were outside, you said goodbye to your mother, grandmother, and sister, already counting down the days until Christmas, when you would see them again. Your dad, Steve, and Bucky came back in from the car to say final goodbyes before you headed out. 

You waved to your family from the car window until they were out of sight. You looked at the boys. “We survived,” you said. “At the very least, my family is accepting. Anna and Grandma Billie of course love y’all, but I think my parents like you too.” The boys exchanged a glance. “What happened? Did they say something?” you asked. 

“Both of your parents pulled guns on us, so that was a good start to the morning,” Bucky said sarcastically. 

You laughed at the ridiculous mental image of your parents aiming their guns at two of the most dangerous men on the planet. “They did? What did they say?”

“‘Don’t hurt my daughter,’ basically.” 

You mulled it over. “That’s a good sign.”

“What?! That’s a _good_ sign?!!”

“It means they’re taking this relationship seriously.”

“...And they had to do that at _gunpoint_?”

“Well, yeah. What did you want them to do? Politely ask you not to mistreat me? It’s the South.” 

The boys were at a loss for words.

“It’s not like they actually held you at gunpoint, they probably just not-so-subtly showed you their guns, right?”

They nodded. 

“Okay, so you’re being a little dramatic.” When you saw the incredulous look on their faces, you added, “I’m sorry. You probably weren’t expecting that. It’s their old-fashioned way of acknowledging that their daughter’s heart is in your hands, and they want you to think twice before breaking it.”

“We’re not going to break your heart,” Steve said sincerely. 

“I know that,” you assured him. “But in case you _were_ to mistreat me, they want you to know that someone’s looking out for me.”

“I’ll give your parents—especially your mom—credit. I didn’t think anyone would be tougher than Kiara,” Bucky said. 

You laughed. “Wait until you meet Brandon and Michelle.” You were mainly joking, but the boys’ eyes looked like they were gonna pop out of their heads. “ _Kidding_ ,” you said. “Besides, you two left me alone with Black Widow after we had been dating for, like, a month.” 

“Fair enough,” Steve conceded. 

“And don’t worry about my parents. They may have a funny way of showing it, but I think they do like you. And if it makes you feel any better, my father is a pretty bad shot,” you joked. They laughed. 

“Was he the one that taught you to shoot? Because if he was, I’m guessing he’s an _excellent_ shot,” Bucky said. 

“No. That’s my Uncle Robert, on my mom’s side.”

“Is _he_ going to pull a gun on us when we meet him?”

 _Probably._ “I will tell him not to.” 

“Thanks,” Steve said. 

“Are we okay?” you asked. You hoped they hadn’t been scared off by your family.

“Of course. We were just surprised,” Bucky said. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“Don’t be,” Steve responded. 

You arrived at the airport and boarded the plane. It was a short flight back to New York, and most of it was spent talking about pie. 

“I saw a recipe on Pinterest for pumpkin apple pie!” Steve said. “We’ve gotta make that next year.” 

You and Bucky exchanged puzzled glances. 

“It’s an apple pie with a layer of pumpkin pie on top!”

“I’m starting to regret introducing you to Pinterest,” you said. 

“You don’t think it sounds cool?” he asked. 

You looked at Bucky for help, but he just shook his head amusedly, enjoying watching your exchange. “It does. But it could also be cool to do a deconstructed version of that, where we make them into two separate pies,” you suggested. 

“Wheres the fun in that?” Steve said. 

The three of you spent the rest of the journey negotiating the pie menu for next Thanksgiving. The only consensus you came to was making a lot of pies for Christmas. You were glad you and Bucky had a whole year to dissuade Steve from the pumpkin apple pie. _Wow. I can’t believe we’re actually planning for a year from now._ It was one thing to talk about “the future” in general, and a whole other thing to be planning holiday menus a year in advance. It felt good. You couldn’t wait to see what the next year would bring. 


End file.
